


The Truth is out There

by Aenaria



Series: Interesting Times [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy and Steve are totally an old married couple here, F/M, Faking the Dead, Future Fic, Gen, Kidfic, Series, aka don't let these kids near the old dvds unsupervised, attempts at comedy, because being deliberately funny is not usually something I write, ca:cw speculation, domesticity rules, two plus two equals fifteen, well at least I'm amused by it...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6560860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, your dad kinda looks like Captain America in this picture here.”</p><p>Occam’s Razor states that the simplest explanation is usually the right one.  But, when you’re dealing with a story as complex as Joey’s family history, sometimes the simplest explanation usually gets overlooked for stranger and more creative answers.</p><p>A.k.a. - When Joey discovers the strong resemblance between his father and Captain America, and his uncle and Bucky Barnes, he puts two plus two together...and comes up with 1500.  Sometimes the truth is that simple, even if it’s equally as unbelievable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I should not be having as much fun as I am with this little universe I’ve been building up, but it’s such a hysterical place to play in and I’m loving it. With the impending doom of CW looming over us, I like a little positivity and optimism to get me through the day, and this universe is the perfect place for that. However, you know that the kids had to find out somehow...and that the process wasn’t going to go smoothly. ;) This chapter’s a little light on the adults, however they are there and will be showing their faces at the end.
> 
> Thanks to Meri, Mcgregorswench, and DizzyRedhead for their advance help on the story and talking me off the ledge multiple times.
> 
> And yes, the title is from exactly where you’re thinking. And it will make so much more sense after you finish this chapter too…
> 
> *hands over the tinfoil hats to the kidlets*

It is a given fact that the week before winter break is one of the hardest ones for any school aged person to get through.  Days, hours, minutes are counted down until the final bell goes and there is a glorious stretch of freedom ahead.  Getting to that bell, however...well, that’s the hard part.

 

Having study hall at 1:45 in the afternoon the Thursday before winter break doesn’t at all help Joey with the feeling that time has slowed down, stretched out to an infinite crawl before that all important final bell hits and he can head home.  His science textbook is open in front of him, however instead of reading he’s got his head down on the pages, eyes closed, pen clutched in his hand and poised over the page to give the impression that he’s at least attempting to study.

 

“No one’s buying it,” Dani whispers next to him where they sit at one of the bench style tables in the science lab, poking him in the side with the eraser end of a pencil.

 

Joey just squirms and frowns, eyes still closed.  “I didn’t sleep well.  I need a nap.”  Well, to be fair, he hasn’t been sleeping well for a few days, thanks to a lot of twisting and turning and unexpected midnight chats with his uncle.  All of that was catching up to him now, apparently.

 

“Your funeral,” she fires back, waving a dark-skinned hand in his direction.

 

Barely thirty seconds after that a strong, strident voice cuts through the fog.  “Mr. Kirby, while I know study hall isn’t the most interesting, you are still required to stay awake and actually study during it.”

 

Joey sits bolt upright, hair sticking up on one side of his head at an awkward angle, and blinks owlishly.  “Sorry, Ms. Pereira,” he says, digging his pen into his notebook for a lack of anything better to do.

 

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” the young woman says from the desk at the front of the room.

 

Dani just snickers under her breath, and Joey glares at her.  The glare’s not that effective, however, because all Dani does is shake her head and shove her pencil into the dark brown puff of her ponytail.  “Told you so,” she says, propping her history textbook up in front of her, as if creating a little barrier between herself and the teacher’s glare.

 

“I still need a nap,” Joey grumbles, crossing his arms in front of him and hugging himself tight in the hopes that it may wake him up a bit.  Because even when the bell goes off he’s still got a little bit of time before his mother leaves work and spares him from taking the bus once more.

 

“Suck it up, buttercup.”

 

He could set her history book on fire in retaliation.  Even though Joey knows his control isn’t worth spit at this point, he’s pretty sure he could do that much.  But then Dani would punch him back, and that would _hurt_.

 

Yeah, not the best plan, Joey thinks with a grimace.

 

“You know, your dad kinda looks like Captain America in this picture here.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Dani’s brown eyes cut over to him, and she pushes the history text back a few inches so that Joey can see the pictures more easily.  

  


“You’re crazy,” Joey says, frowning at the book.  “And you can’t even see Captain America’s full face there.”  The man in the picture is looking down, eyes trained on the ground in front of him.  Even in black and white, however, there’s still a certain strength there in the figure that seems to leap off the page.  

 

Dani shrugs, jabbing a finger at the picture.  “They’ve got the same jaw.”

 

Joey squints, and leans in even closer.  “How can you tell?  The picture’s so tiny.”

 

“I dunno, there’s just something about him that really reminds me of your dad,” Dani says.  “Maybe he’s, like, your great-great-grandpa and you never knew it.”

 

“I still don’t see it.”

 

“There’s got to be a better picture in here,” Dani mutters, flipping to the next page.  “There’s a whole chapter in here about integrated units in World War Two, and the Howling Commandos was one of the most important ones.”  Before she can go to the next page Joey’s hand darts out, pressing against the pages.

 

“Wait,” he mutters, stopping at another picture halfway down the page.  It’s just as small as the other one, but it’s more of a close up shot, focusing clearly on the two men in it, looking battle weary and worn.  One of them is Captain America, but that’s not who’s got Joey’s attention.  It’s the man to Captain America’s left, busted and battered and still sturdily upright, that Joey’s focusing on.  “Who’s that?”

“Bucky Barnes,” Dani replies.  “He was pretty much Captain America’s second in command of the Howling Commandos.”

 

Joey pauses, just for a moment, then he blurts out, “Have you ever met my Uncle Jimmy?”  Dani shakes her head.  Joey leans down and grabs his phone out of his backpack, keying in the unlock code and flipping quickly over to the photos app.  “Here.”

 

The photo is a few months out of date, from a hiking trip that past summer on Mount Washington, but it’s a good shot of both him and Uncle Jimmy, leaning against a tree with the older man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.  And even though Uncle Jimmy’s got a hat on to block the worst of the daylight out, his sunglasses are off and his face is clear for everyone to see.  “Whoa,” Dani breathes.

 

“Yeah.  Okay, now I’m a little freaked out.”

 

“Yup.”  She nods at the book.  “You know, his real name was James too.  James Buchanan Barnes,” she reads off of the little descriptive tag beneath the image.  Then she cuts her eyes across to Joey a little warily.  “And Captain America’s actual name was Steven.  Same as your dad.  Who does kind of look like Captain America.”

 

“They’re common names though,” Joey says, even though the sudden nervous churning in the pit of his stomach says otherwise.

 

“Mr. Kirby, you are on extremely thin ice today, so put the phone away before I confiscate it,” Ms. Pereira calls out, making the two of them startle and practically jump upright.  

 

Joey fumbles the phone and hastily drops it into his backpack.  “Sorry Ms. Pereira!”

 

He and Dani are quiet for the next few moments.  The book is open in front of them, and all Joey wants to do is cover up those pictures while he tries to make sense of things.  Which he can’t, because he doesn’t even know what any of this means.  And really, it could all be coincidence.  It’s not the first, nor the last time that someone he knows has a doppelganger either halfway around the world or in a history book somewhere.

 

Yeah, and his tendency to light things on fire is because he keeps tripping over a lighter.

 

“We probably should look into this more, shouldn’t we?” Joey asks.

 

Dani nods, eyes wide and unblinking.

 

He taps his fingers a few times against his notebook, trying to figure out what to do next.  They need time to do research, but they also need to not get caught.  Joey’s pretty sure his parents already think he’s a bit crazy because of keeping the whole thing with their extra abilities secret; when they hear about this new idea of them having any sort of relation to a legendary hero?  Yeah, he’ll either be committed or grounded until he’s 30.  “Can you come over to mine after school?  We can look stuff up there without getting busted, and you can meet Uncle Jimmy.”

 

“I thought you said your dad was cooking tonight,” Dani says with a frown, “and that you would do anything to get out of it.”

 

“Yeah, true, but I know we’ll get pizza instead because Mom will stop things as soon as the house starts smelling like boiled cabbage.  Which they never mean to do, but it always happens,” Joey says, shrugging.

 

“You know I love pizza, even if the stuff you get up here ain’t anywhere near as good as the ones back in New York.”

 

Ms. Pereira clears her throat again, loudly enough that it carries over the class.  Dani and Joey turn quickly back to their books, trying to look at least like they were working, even though neither one of their brains was really focused on schoolwork then and there.

 

As soon as the last bell rings the two hot foot it over to Darcy’s classroom (and isn’t that awkward, Joey knows, having to attend school in the same place where his mother’s a teacher.  At least she’s not teaching any of his classes...this year) and commence with the begging to let Dani come over for dinner.  Luckily it doesn’t take all that much convincing, and as soon as affirmative text messages are exchanged with Dani’s mother they’re pretty much in the clear.  Then it’s just a matter of waiting for Joey’s dad to come by and pick them up.

 

In the car, Joey steadfastly ignores the pointed look Dani gives him as she waves a hand at the back of his dad’s head and then taps a finger against the cover of her history text.

 

**********

 

Okay, so the research doesn’t happen immediately.  The two of them take a little bit of time away from the homework and other seriousness to fool around on the Starktech VRS game console that Joey had received for his last birthday and which never fails to get a disgruntled look from his dad whenever he walks by it.

 

(Dad wasn’t a video game fan, apparently.  Mom just rolled her eyes and told him to grow up.  This was not a new argument in their household.)

Eventually Uncle Jimmy comes home with Sophie in tow, having picked her up from school on his way back from buying groceries for the infamous dinner that Joey’s still hoping will somehow get canceled before the cooking even begins.  When Dani is introduced to him she smiles sweetly and is charming, which gets a sideways glance from Joey because it’s entirely unlike her usual blunt force object personality.  But the blunt force comes back as soon as his Dad’s and Uncle’s backs are turned; the pointed look she throws Joey’s way is strong enough to make him fight back the urge to wince.

 

“Identical,” she whispers, nodding solemnly.

 

Joey sighs heavily, and nods back.  “Time to get to work.”

 

**********

 

By the time the evening rolls around, Dani’s got a fresh list written out on her laptop, a small compilation of ideas and possibilities, trying to reconcile all of the information they’d come across in their research of the last few hours.  The information itself is fairly conclusive.  First on the list is the information about the legendary heroes from back in the day: the original Captain America, Steve Rogers, crashed the Valkyrie and was declared dead in 1945, revived in 2012, and then declared deceased again in 2016 in an incident that was still mostly classified fifteen years later.  The information on Bucky Barnes is even more definitive: died on a mission with Captain America and the Howling Commandos in late 1944.  Just about every respectable and legitimate website backs this information up easily.

 

The next part of the list consists of the information culled from any number of the conspiracy theory websites that they came across in their searching, which is more than enough to get Joey’s eyebrows crawling up towards his hairline in disbelief.  A popular theory is that Cap was actually created as a part of a Nazi plot to overthrow the U.S through comic books.  One web page says that there has been a series of different Captain Americas, all built from the same perfect genetic profile, acting as government sanctioned super soldiers since the 1950s, while another says that the serum that turned Steve Rogers into Captain America was actually based from alien DNA.  Which made Captain America part alien, which they’re not sure is better or worse.  Another one says that Cap didn’t really crash the plane, but was put into cold storage next to Walt Disney’s head to be revived again when the country needed him most.  Which apparently was also aliens.  There are numerous pages of Captain America sightings throughout the twentieth century, from people who were claiming to have spotted him in a Burger King in Kentucky or some place like that, right alongside all of those Elvis isn’t dead sightings (which were kind of correct, even though being frozen in an iceberg for nearly seventy years doesn’t quite have the same ring to it).  Then there’s the statement on a particularly out of date webpage full of flashing graphics that hurt Joey’s eyes saying that Cap was a robot sent back from the future to kill Hitler.  And according to another website, Captain America was actually a woman.

 

Bucky Barnes isn’t quite as popular with the conspiracy pages.  Even though, technically, he was classified as M.I.A. rather than officially declared dead (no one ever found his body, they learn), there are only a scant handful of sightings centered around the Middle East in the 1980s.  And beyond the theory that the teenage actor who played Bucky Barnes on the Saturday morning ‘Kid America and the Howlers,’ show was actually a reincarnated version of the original one, his internet imprint is woefully sparse.

 

Honestly, Joey isn’t sure what to believe anymore.

 

The third part of the list is the compilation of the best theories that he and Dani could come up with after their few hours of research (in between minimizing the browser page every time either Dad or Sophie walked into the room).  It reads thusly:

 

\- Government clones

\- Illuminati

\- Secret great-grandfather

\- Reincarnation??

\- Undercover operatives who had plastic surgery to look like old-timey heroes

\- Alien replacements of actual humans

 

“I think the aliens may be pushing it,” Dani says, frowning.  “Though you can act like an alien sometimes.”

 

“Hey,” he protests, even though there’s no real irritation in the words.  “And probably.”  Joey shrugs.  “They’re all insane ideas.”  He leans back against the couch, chewing on the end of a pen as he stares hard at the computer screen.  “I think we’re missing something, though.  But I don’t know what.”

 

“We could try the library this Saturday.”  Dani flips over to another browser tab, pulling up the page for the local library in town.  It’s a small one, but if they tried to get the parents to take them to the bigger one in the nearest city it’d result in a lot of questions they didn’t want to answer.  “We could tell our parents we have a history project to work on.  Technically, that’s not lying.”

 

Joey’s about to nod his agreement, but then he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and tipping his head back against the couch.  “I can’t.  Sophie’s Christmas concert is this weekend and it’s a family event.  Which means I HAVE to go because Mom and Dad won’t let me stay home with Frankie.”

 

Said dog, who’s sprawled out in front of the fireplace letting the flames carefully bake her hide, lifts up her head at the sound of her name and whuffs quietly in their direction.

 

“Boo,” Dani calls out.  “Guess I’m just gonna have to research on my own.”

 

“You’d do that?”

 

“Course,” she says, nodding firmly.  “I like a good mystery.  And it’s better than cleaning my room.  Dad’s coming up from the city so Mom’s trying to get the house all neat.  Which won’t happen, but she’s gonna make us clean anyway.  Ugh.”

 

(Joey’s never asked why exactly Dani and her mother live up here in the Massachusetts backwoods while her father stayed behind in New York City.  From everything she’s said her parents are still together, just living 200 miles apart.  He figures she’ll share the story when she wants to, but in the meantime, they both understand the importance of secrets.)

 

Joey goes silent for a moment, chewing on his pen hard enough to crack the plastic cap and making him spit it out onto the coffee table.  “Am I crazy for thinking that there’s actually something real with all of this stuff?  Like, am I just seeing things because my dad and my uncle kinda look like these guys?”

 

“You are crazy,” Dani fires back quickly, making Joey shoot her a disgruntled look.  “But even I’m creeped out by the resemblance.  So not that crazy.”

 

Before Joey can say anything else Sophie comes thundering into the room, making Dani scramble to close down the browser screen and the file with the list.  It’s not really necessary though, as Sophie blows right past them and drops to her knees next to Frankie, who rolls over onto her back.  The dog’s tongue lolls out of her mouth in a doggie grin as Sophie starts rubbing at her belly.  “Whatcha doing?” Sophie asks, finally noticing her brother and Dani.  

 

“Homework.”  Technically.  Okay, no actual homework has been done, but their teachers didn’t exactly load them down with assignments given that the kids’ brains have pretty much already gone on holiday break, even though classes won’t technically end until Tuesday of the following week.  Joey knows full well he can half-ass the assignments in the morning if he wakes up early enough, so he’s not exactly panicking.  “Shouldn’t you go do yours too?”

 

“I am alllll done,” Sophie says, bending down to rub at Frankie’s nose with her own.  “Now it’s TV time.  Dad said I could,” she finishes, sticking her tongue out at Joey, secure in the knowledge that she’ll be able to decide what they’re watching instead of her big brother.

 

“Great,” he mutters.

 

Suddenly Dani’s head whips around from side to side, her nose in the air sniffing hard, and the look on her face is one of barely disguised horror.  “What is _that??”_  

 

Joey claps a hand over his nose, attempting to protect it, while Sophie rolls her eyes, grimacing.  “Dad and Uncle Jimmy started making dinner,” she says.

 

“Oh, no way,” Joey mutters, scrambling to his feet and heading straight into the kitchen.  The only redeeming fact about the smell that’s begun to drift through the lower floor of the house is that he knows that Mom will take one whiff of it as soon as she walks through the door, and then reach for the pizza place number that’s on speed dial.  

 

The kitchen doesn’t quite look like a disaster area, but there are cutting boards, knives, and groceries spread out across the counters.  Ben is tucked away in his high chair, whacking a chilled teething toy against the attached tray with one hand while shoving the other one into his mouth and sucking on his fingers, fully ignoring the noise coming from the adults in the room.  A couple of pots bubble merrily away on the stove.  It’s clear that the smell is emanating from those pots, though the two men in the room don’t seem to be at all bothered by it.  “I thought we were gonna do pizza tonight,” Joey calls out, resisting the urge to cover his nose with his sleeve.

 

“I told your mother we were going to cook,” Dad says, hovering over the pots with a wooden spoon in one hand and a potholder in the other.  “We’ve got this covered.”

 

“It smells like something died in here,” Joey fires back, grimacing.

 

“It’s not that bad,” Uncle Jimmy calls out from where he’s forearm deep in soap suds at the sink.  “It’ll be good when it’s done.”

 

Joey just shakes his head with a wince.  “No it won’t.”

 

“Have some faith,” Uncle Jimmy says, sending a smile in Joey’s direction.

 

Joey’s eyes trail over to the stove, and a wicked idea comes into his head.  “If you want, I can take care of that for you,” he says.  Concentrating hard, he feels that unique sense of power surge up inside him, a feeling he’s been getting used to over the last few months.  He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, and then when he opens them again a small jet of flame erupts on the handle of one of the pots.

 

Much to his dismay, his Dad all but leaps onto the flame, whacking it out of existence with the potholder in his hand.  Then he turns a slightly dismayed and entirely disgruntled glare at Joey, who just grins innocently.  “Don’t even think about it,” Dad says, when Joey shrugs nonchalantly.

 

“I had to try.”

 

When his mother comes into the kitchen only a few seconds after that, she pauses in the doorway leading from the garage and takes in the sight before her.  It’s hard for Joey not to giggle at his dad and his uncle freezing up and turning almost identical puppy-dog eyes on her.  Warily, she walks over to the stove, taking a brief detour to run a hand over Ben’s downy blond head and making the baby giggle.  She lifts the lid off of one of the pots, leaning back when some steam almost catches her in the eyes.  “Well, it could be worse,” Mom says.  “We can salvage most of this, and we’ll have chicken soup this weekend.”  She looks up at Dad, eyebrows arching high above her glasses.  “But that cabbage is going in the bin outside before it stinks up the whole house.”

 

“It’s still edible,” Dad points out, giving her a glare right back.

 

“Yeah, and it smells like your gym socks when you forget them in the laundry basket for a week.”

 

Both Uncle Jimmy and Joey fight back the snickers at that one.

 

Mom stretches up and gives Dad a kiss on the cheek, which makes Joey feel all sorts of awkward (even though he knows that he’s a lot luckier than most that his parents still love each other enough to show off that casual sort of affection that easily).  “Thank you for trying,” Mom says, grinning up at him.  She then pulls a menu out of a nearby drawer, and tosses it at Joey.  “Why don’t you, Dani, and Soph go pick out what you want for dinner.”

 

“Sweet,” Joey says, taking the menu and running back to the living room.

 

**********

 

“Now I could make a comment about you being whipped,” Bucky says, smirking.  Steve just raises an eyebrow and tosses a dishtowel right at his face, which Bucky snatches out of the air, then turns to start drying some of the pots on the drainboard.

 

Darcy shakes her head, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest with a smile that’s just on the right side of evil.  “Don’t think that you’re getting out of this free and clear, Bucky.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Uh-huh.  You’re going to do me a big favor tomorrow night.”

 

Bucky gives Darcy a sideways glance as he puts some silverware away.  “And what favor would that be?”

 

The look on Darcy’s face is enough to make Steve a bit worried for his best friend.  Sometimes the woman he married could be scarier than any horde of attacking aliens.

 

“Yup.  The kids have been wanting to go shopping for Christmas presents for everyone.  Tomorrow night’s the perfect time for that.  You can take them out to dinner too while you’re there.  They’ll love it.”

 

Steve bites back a laugh at the sudden, wide-eyed, combination of dismay and worry that’s taken over Bucky’s face.  “No,” Bucky says.

 

“Oh yes.”  Darcy’s grin gets even wider.  “They want to buy presents for us.  It’s probably best that we’re not there for it.”

 

“That’s...cruel and unusual punishment.”

 

“So’s the smell of that damn cabbage.”

 

Steve sidles over to Darcy, wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close.  “So does that mean we’re going to have the house all to ourselves tomorrow night?”

 

(And the last time that had happened they’d ended up with Ben nine months later...oops.)

 

Darcy purses her lips, turning that arch look Steve’s way.  “Oh, you’re gonna be on gift-wrapping duty tomorrow night.”

 

His arm falls away from her waist and he grimaces, ignoring the snickers coming from Bucky’s direction.  “I thought you ordered them pre-wrapped?”

  
“Not all of them.”  She pats Steve on the back none too gently, making him roll his eyes in response.  “Get your scissors ready.”


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy and Steve get some alone time and they do what adults do...which is talk about their kids when they're not listening, of course. 
> 
> Also, Joey overhears something that could turn out to be very, very important (also known as Steve, you really ought to watch your language).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Meri and Mcgregorswench for the advance read and the handholding as I angsted through the writing of this chapter because Steve can be more than a bit stubborn when he wants to. Also, thanks to the usual crowd on my blog (aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com) for all of their support and just being generally awesome.
> 
> Be warned in advance, this part is pretty much entirely fluff. Tooth-rottingly sweet domestic fluff. My dear characters here are feeling a bit sappy tonight. Have a dentist on standby. ;)

Darcy watches Bucky’s car, loaded up with all three of her kids for a night out at the mall, as it drives off down the road.  She sighs once, softly, and lets the curtain drop back into place across the front window.  It’s never easy to let them out of her sight, but there’s no one she trusts more than Bucky with her family.

 

With all of the kids gone, however, the house is eerily quiet, the creaks of old floorboards and the wind rattling the windows echoing throughout the rooms.  Appropriate sounds for winter in New England, Darcy thinks, then shakes her head at the melodrama of it.  Tonight, these sounds mean peace and calm and some time alone with her husband, which is always a good thing.

 

She heads into the kitchen, to pull some leftovers out of the fridge for dinner.  Nothing glamorous, but hey, it’s her night off.  Before she can start heating up the food Steve comes in through the back door, rubbing his arms to ward off the cold, Frankie stumbling in at his heels and making a beeline straight for her food bowl.  “Everyone get out safely?” Steve asks, locking the door behind him.

 

“Mmhmm,” Darcy mumbles.  “Listen to that,” she says, waving a hand around.  “Blessed silence.”

 

Steve nods slowly, chewing at the inside of his cheek and looking entirely too thoughtful.  He moves next to her, running chilled fingers across her upper back that make Darcy jump and then shiver with the cold.  “Ack,” she grouses.  Then, much quicker than she’s expecting, he takes the wrapped container out of her hands and grabs her around the waist, swinging her all too easily into his arms, like she weighs nothing at all.  One arm holds her close to him, supporting her enough so she can wrap her legs around his waist, while his other darts back through her hair, cupping the back of her head.

 

Sometimes she forgets just how strong Steve actually is.  

 

Darcy drapes her arms over his shoulders, and from this angle she’s actually looking down at him, which is all too rare.  “You’re trying to get out of gift wrapping, aren’t you?” she says, waggling her eyebrows.

 

“I am not trying to get out of gift wrapping,” Steve says with a grin.  “But we are alone.  Together.  For the first time in I can’t remember how long.  I feel like we should take advantage of that.”

 

“Hmmm,” Darcy hums.  “I think you’re going to have to convince me,” she teases, scratching her nails against his hairline and delighting in the little shiver that she feels run through him.

 

“As you wish,” Steve says, the grin getting wider and infinitely more wicked.

 

**********

 

Later on, after the bodies have stilled and the traces of sweat are drying on her skin, Darcy lazily stretches out in the sheets of her bed.  It’s a rare thing, but she relishes the opportunity to have a few minutes just to embrace the stillness.  Her body’s lethargic in that good way, and her brain is quiet, making slow pathways and free associations between ideas without any actual intent or conclusion.

 

The bed next to her is empty, though the noises in the room make it clear she’s not alone.  Her eyes flutter open, moving around the bedroom until she spots Steve.  He’s managed to shove himself into a pair of boxer briefs that cling to his body, even though the clothes he was wearing earlier are still halfway across the room where she’d tossed them.  He’s hunched over on the floor, tape and scissors, wrapping paper, and a pile of baby toys spread out on the carpet in front of him.  It’s Ben’s first Christmas this year, and he’s at least old enough to enjoy ripping the paper to pieces even if the toys just get tossed by the wayside.

 

And while it’s easy to forget just what strength is in Steve when he’s covered up in layers of clothing (a deliberate choice, Darcy knows), it’s all too apparent when he’s stripped down to his skin.  Smooth and sleek, lightly dusted with hair and freckles, overlaying all of that musculature that could have once been carved from marble.  Even though he’d left the life of an Avenger behind long ago, by his own choice, the gift that Erskine had given him still remains.

 

“Do you ever miss it?” Darcy asks, rolling over in the bed so she can look down at him.

 

“Miss what?” he responds as he tapes a piece of silvery foiled paper to a box containing a building block set that’s just perfect for little baby fingers.

 

“Miss being a hero?  Saving the world, fighting bad guys…”  Her voice trails off, getting lost down vague paths of thought.

 

But for all the vagueness Darcy currently feels, she doesn’t miss the way Steve’s shoulders go still, and his hands slow down in their wrapping.  He straightens up slightly.  “Why do you ask?”

 

Darcy snorts, burying her face in the arm that’s propping her up.  “Considering what we’ve been through in the last couple of weeks, I think it’s a natural topic of conversation.”

 

Steve glances over his shoulder at her with a wry grin.  “Was it the firebug or the random floating baby that did it?”

 

“Be nice, they’re your kids too.”

 

“They may be little troublemakers, but they’re our little troublemakers.”

 

“And that didn’t come from you.  No.  Not at all.  Bucky never ever had to bail your ass out of a back alley brawl.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

 

Steve twists so he can rest his folded arms on the bed, and then props his chin there, bringing his face close to Darcy’s.  “I was a little angel,” he says.  “At least according to my ma.”

 

“Your mom was a fucking saint, and we both know she had her hands full keeping up with you.”  Darcy rolls her head lightly, giving her husband a look.  “And you’re stalling now.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says, nodding.  “Full disclosure?”

 

“Always.”

 

He nods again, picking at a loose thread on the bedcover puddled around Darcy’s body.  “Right here, right now - this life we have?  This is exactly the kind of life I always dreamed of having.  A happy family, amazing kids, a wife who’s a best friend and who gets along with my other best friend like he’s a brother to both of us, and a chance to actually make a career out of art?  It’s everything to me.”  Steve pushes a dark curl of hair away from her face, stroking his fingertips down her cheek.  “When they pulled me out of the ice, and for years after, I didn’t even think this was possible.  That having this kind of a life wouldn’t happen, and I’d resigned myself to that.”

 

“And then things changed,” Darcy says quietly, leaving that one small line to carry the weight of everything they both know had happened when Steve had decided to finally get out in the only way he knew possible.

 

“Yeah, things changed,” Steve agrees, tangling his free hand with hers.  “And that wasn’t a bad thing.  Captain America, Steve Rogers, left a good legacy behind.  And, Sam’s doing a great job at carrying that on.  So I am content with staying back in the shadows with this amazing life we’ve created, and happy going into the future that way instead.”

 

“How did I get so lucky?” Darcy murmurs, pushing a hand through his hair and pulling him close for a long, deep kiss.

 

“I’m kinda thinking that I’m the really lucky one,” Steve replies with a soft smile.”

 

“Sap.  Keep that up, though, and you’re really going to get lucky again.”

 

“Still, what’s brought this on?” Steve asks again, not quite as distracted as Darcy is and pushing the conversation back to where it had started.

 

“Just thinking about what we’re going to tell the kids.  Joey and Soph are old enough to start asking questions.  And they will.  They’re going to want to know  _ why. _ ”  She sighs, scratches her finger through his beard.  “Joey especially will want to know why you left.  And he’ll keep asking until he has an answer that satisfies him, you know that.”

 

Steve nods, and he leans down until his forehead just brushes the mattress.  “Yeah,” he mumbles, practically into the bed covers.  “I’ve been thinking about it.  Not sure what I’m gonna tell him.”  He pulls her hand close to his mouth, brushing a kiss against her knuckles.  “I’ll figure something out.”  Steve glances up at Darcy through thick, dark eyelashes.  “You miss the life sometimes though, don’t you?”

 

“I miss the excitement sometimes,” she says, nodding.  Full disclosure, it’s how they’ve always done it.  “Sometimes I get sick of baby puke and apathetic 8th graders and just think that the damn aliens were easier to deal with.”  Darcy runs her thumb along his lips, feeling that small bit of wonder that, even all these years later, she’s allowed to do this, to indulge in these casual affectionate touches with the best man she’s ever met.  “And I keep thinking that I’m too old for a career change, to start a new job  _ again _ , but…”

 

“Teaching isn’t doing it anymore,” Steve finishes.  “And considering how old I am, I’m the last person to tell you you’re too old to do anything.”  He grins at her again, a glint coming to his eyes.  “You know, last time we talked to Jane, she did say that she’d just fired another assistant.”

 

Darcy laughs, loud and bright, tossing her head back until her hair cascades around her bare shoulders.  “Oh, now that’s just asking for trouble,” she says around the giggles.  “We’re probably a little too old to go around ripping holes in the space-time continuum anymore.  Not that that’s stopping Jane, but still.”  She reaches out to the night table and checks her phone.  Despite the heavy winter darkness outside the curtains it’s not that late in the day, and they’ve still got some time all to themselves.  “All right, Bucky said he’d text us when he was on the way home, and that he’d take the long way back.  So get your ass up here,” she says, tugging on Steve’s bicep.

 

Steve follows her back onto the bed, pressing Darcy back into the pillows as he brings his mouth to hers.  “Yes ma’am,” he mumbles against her lips.

 

**********

 

It’s a little after nine when Bucky rolls back in with the kids.  Which is more than enough time for Steve to have stripped the bed down and shoved the sheets in the washer, for Darcy to hide the freshly wrapped presents in a closet in Steve’s studio, and a quickly shared shower in which fun was had by all parties.

 

(They’re married, not dead, and super strength and super balance makes it much easier for shenanigans in a shower stall…)

 

Darcy’s camped out on the couch with the TV turned down low, feeling relaxed and calm when Joey walks past the living room entrance, carrying a drooping Ben in his arms.  Steve’s right behind him, cradling Sophie who is entirely passed out and snoring softly on his shoulder.  “Come here, baby,” she calls out softly, waving them over.

 

“M’not a baby, Mom,” Joey mumbles, even though he slouches down on the couch next to her and carefully places Ben into her waiting arms.  Steve just shakes his head and smiles at them, then continues forth on his mission to get Sophie safely into bed.

 

“Yes, yes, I know, you’re a big, strong young man who’ll be taller than I am in a couple of weeks,” Darcy says with an indulgent grin, cuddling the baby against her chest and reaching out to ruffle her older boy’s hair.  “That being said I will always be your mom and therefore you will always be my baby.”

 

Joey just rolls his eyes, but Darcy can tell he’s trying to fight back the smile.  “So basically, suck it up and deal?”

 

“Bingo,” Darcy says, nodding.  Ben snuffles a bit, burrowing into the curve between her shoulder and her neck, a warm, heavy weight against her skin.  “And on that note, I think the actual baby needs to go to sleep.”

 

“I can stay up a little later, right?” Joey asks.  “It is Friday.”

 

“Yes, you can, dear child of mine,” Darcy says with a bit of a grunt as she levers herself off of the couch.  

 

She passes by Steve on the stairway, and he pauses to give Ben a careful hair ruffle to the mop of golden strands on his head, and to press a kiss to her cheek before he goes back downstairs.  It doesn’t take long to strip Ben out of his day clothes and put him into pajamas; he’s hit that stage of sleepy baby where it’s all too easy to maneuver them.  And sure enough, Ben sleeps through the entire thing, curling contentedly in his crib once everything’s done.

 

This life may not be easy, Darcy thinks, but it’s hers, and that makes it all worthwhile.

 

**********

 

After his mother takes the baby upstairs Joey reaches for the remote, because his mother has the bad tendency to watch countless Law and Order reruns if given the chance and there are infinitely better things out there to watch, at least in his mind.

 

But before that...a snack wouldn’t be a bad idea.  Like his mom said, he’s a growing boy.  He needs to keep his metabolism up.

 

His dad and his uncle are already in the kitchen, and he can hear their voices echo out before he can see them.  “So does this mean we’re going to be seeing another little one running around the house here in about nine months or so?” Uncle Jimmy says, and Joey pauses in the darkened hallway, just before the kitchen door, grimacing.  

 

There are certain things a child never, ever, in ANY universe, needs to know about their parents.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Bucky,” he hears his dad say, followed up by a soft thwack of skin on skin which is obviously his dad belting Uncle Jimmy one in the arm.

 

Joey just grimaces even more, shaking his head hard as if it can get the bad pictures out of it.  “We don’t need any more babies around here,” Joey calls out, giving the adults fair warning that kids are around and listening and don’t need to hear anything more whatsoever about babies being made before walking into the room and heading straight for the cabinet where the chips are held.  “Ben screams enough for three babies.  And his diapers are awful.”

 

“Yeah, and when was the last time you changed one of his diapers?” Dad asks, accompanied by a muffled snicker from Uncle Jimmy’s direction.

 

“Don’t need to; they stink up the whole house.”  He finds the chips and shoves a handful into his mouth, and turns around to find Uncle Jimmy gaping incredulously at him.

 

“How are you still hungry?”

 

Joey shrugs.  “Chips are good.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you ate half the salad bar at dinner.”

 

“Did not.”

 

Dad just shrugs.  “Kids have big appetites,” he says, reaching out to swipe a handful of chips for himself.

 

This time Uncle Jimmy’s look is directed firmly in his dad’s direction, which amuses Joey to no end.  “Yeah?  Don’t think I don’t know where that comes from; I’ve seen you pack it away on more than one occasion, and it’s disgusting.  Seriously.  No table manners whatsoever.”

 

“Remind me of that time we went to Nathan’s and you blew all your pocket change on hot dogs again?” Dad fires back, popping a chip into his mouth and chewing on it a lot more loudly than he had any need to.

 

“Wow, the maturity level in here is startling,” Mom breaks in, and then laughs at them as all three heads whip around to her with near identical sheepish looks on their faces.  

 

It isn’t until late that night, when Joey’s already in bed and reading a few comic books under the covers with a flashlight because he should totally be sleeping by then, that he realizes what exactly his dad had said in the kitchen just before he’d gone in there.

 

_ Shut the fuck up, Bucky. _

 

The flashlight hits the pages of the book with a dull crinkle, and Joey falls back into his pillow.

  
Now what on Earth did he mean by  _ that?? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know whether I’m happy or sad that this story has now been officially Jossed by CA:CW (happy because yay Steve’s not dead, sad because crap, now my backstory is not quite lined up with canon). So most likely I’m going to pick and choose the elements of the movie I want to work with, but the whole faking the dead thing isn’t going to change here because that’s pretty much a cornerstone of this universe.
> 
> Also, Steve, you were a little pain in the backside to write in this part. But I think we got there eventually with your complex feelings...which, admittedly, were aided by some of the things that we saw in CA:CW, and pretty much changed his response entirely. In a good way though, I think. Which may make it a little harder for me to figure out some things in the future of this universe, but whatever. ‘Wing it’ is my family motto, and I’ll figure it out as I go along.
> 
> Okay, cutting my notes off here before I babble any further. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey and Dani continue on with the research about Captain America and Bucky Barnes, and Joey comes up with the startling idea that the truth may be far simpler than any of the crazy ideas he's come up with so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working on job applications. Instead, here, have a chapter. This part’s a bit light on the Steve/Darcy, but as this story is really about how Joey learns the truth about his family’s past, I’m giving him the spotlight for a bit. Thanks to my usual crew for the help and encouragement in getting through this writer’s block.

Monday, December 22nd

“I mean, it’s just a nickname, it may not mean anything,” Dani says as she pulls a textbook out of her locker and slams it into her backpack.  They’ve got one full day and a half of one tomorrow before they are officially released for winter break, so Joey can’t understand why they’re still being assigned homework.  However it’s clear that he doesn’t understand what goes on in the mind of a teacher, so instead he just watches as Dani rotates out her books for the ones in the next set of classes.  “You could be making a big deal out of nothing.”

Joey shakes his head.  “Yeah, but  _ that _ nickname?  Or a nickname of the same nickname that the guy with my uncle’s exact face had in the history books?”

It’s safe to say that Joey’s been harping on that one small conversation for the entire weekend, to the point that he was even up tossing and turning the night before trying to think of the best way to tell Dani about what he’d overheard.  More evidence to add into the file, which Dani had apparently expanded on over the weekend when her parents thought she was supposed to be sleeping also.

“Do you know how weird that sentence just sounded?” Dani asks as she checks the puff of her ponytail in the small mirror tacked up to the inside of her locker door.  “Like, if anyone overhears us they’re going to think we’re nuts.”

“Yes,” Joey moans dramatically, slumping against the closed lockers next to hers and rolling his eyes up towards the hallway ceiling.  “I think I’m going crazy.”

“You already were crazy,” Dani scoffs.  “But as I saw the same things you did, either both of us are going crazy, or we’re right and everyone else is crazy.”

Joey chews the inside of his cheek, looking upwards again.  “Is anyone actually named Bucky these days anyway?  Even just as a nickname?”

“I’m sure there are some,” Dani replies, even though the grimace on her lips and the worried look in her eyes says differently.

“And my dad’s the one who called him that, so he’s got to know...something...I think.  Maybe.”  He bangs his head back against the locker once, twice, which makes Dani roll her eyes at him.  “I don’t know.”

Dani slams her locker shut, making Joey jump slightly and straighten out of his slump.  “All right,” she says, “are we still going with the alien clones idea or identical grandkids?”

Joey frowns again, crossing his arms over his chest this time and looking far more serious than he probably should in a situation such as this one (‘the preteen melodrama’ as his mother would say, and boy if he isn’t glad that she’s not on lunch duty today so he can keep up with the sulk without any comments as he eats).  “I think we need new ideas.”

“That requires more research,” Dani nods, shouldering her backpack.  “Will your parents care if you come over to mine after school if you tell them we’re working on that project for history class?  I think I know how we can do some more research.”

“And technically we are working on a history project, aren’t we?”

“You know it.”

A meaty fist pounds the locker a few inches away from Joey’s head, and he looks up to see one of his classmates standing there looking none too happy that Joey’s been using his locker as a backrest.  And while Joey’s decently tall for his age, there’s always at least one kid that looks like he could pick him up and break him like a twig.  “Get offa my locker, asswipe,” the other student says, “I gotta get in.”

Joey also knows that some of his classmates just aren’t worth the trouble to tangle with, especially when word of a fight will definitely get back to his mother.

“Yup, leaving now,” he says, nearly jumping away from the locker and taking a few long steps down the hallway.  

“Man, you’d think people would be nicer out here in the sticks,” Dani mutters as they head towards the stairwell that’ll take them to the cafeteria.

“Nope.  No matter where you go, you’re always going to get a bully,” is all that Joey says.

It’s halfway down the stairs that Dani pauses, eyes going wide for a moment before she stops dead on the stairs and blurts out, “Bucky Dent!”

“What?” Joey says, stopping a couple of steps below her so that he can look up at her suddenly proud face.

“Bucky Dent,” Dani pushes on.  “You wanted to know someone else who was named Bucky.  He used to play for the Yankees, helped them beat the Red Sox in the playoff games in the 1970s with a crazy unexpected homer.”

Joey just stares at her for a moment, more than a bit dumbfounded, then he frowns, like he can’t quite wrap his head around the statement.  “Why the hell do you know that??”

“Research,” she says, shrugging.  “I need something to rub in the face of Mr. Harper’s dumbass Red Sox memorabilia collection the next time he starts talking about it in math, so Mom and I started looking for some of the players who embarrassed the Red Sox for the most stupid reasons.  So it’s either him or Bill Buckner,” she finishes with a grumble.

**********

It’s all too easy to clear permission to go over to Dani’s house in the name of homework projects - when your mother’s a teacher she knows full well just how much he’s been assigned, and if going over to Dani’s gets Joey out of his father’s hair for a little bit?  That’s no bad thing either.

They set themselves up in the den, because Dani’s mother is working on her computer in the living room doing whatever online stuff she does and getting out of her way as she works will only be better for their own plans.  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Joey asks as Dani grabs the remote and starts flipping through the family’s Netflix queue.

“It can’t hurt,” she replies.  “And maybe it’ll inspire us.”

The TV plays on in the background as they set up the laptop and tablet to help with their special project.  Sometimes the internet isn’t a boon to research, especially when there’s so much certifiably insane information out there for them to sort through.  So instead they attempt to get some of their legitimate schoolwork done, at least for a little while. Granted, no teacher is assigning them too much or too difficult homework the day before winter break, but their is some and if they don't do it they're both screwed. It's over quick, however, and it's back to the historical research they go. "All right, I'll take the aliens, you take the history?" Joey says, hands on the keyboard and raring to get started. 

"Yup. Let's do it."

This is at least a lot more interesting information to get lost in compared to their regular homework.  Although for all of the Captain America related conspiracy theories out there the ones about him being a lizard person seem a bit too far fetched.  But clones, that is always a possibility, Joey thinks.  Maybe somehow they implanted some of the memories of the original ones...if the memories are even there.  One name and a similar face doesn’t automatically make an identical clone.

At some point Dani leaves and returns with a bag of Doritos stolen from the pantry and plonks it down on the table between the two of them.  And it’s not long after that the pretenses of homework and research are abandoned in favor of getting lost in the TV show, books and computers lying idle on the coffee table.  Time passes, the sun goes down and the Christmas lights that haphazardly ring the window in the living room click on, casting eerie shadows that combine with lights of the flickering television.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Joey whispers.

“Nope.”  A loud screech comes from the speakers, making Dani jolt in her seat.  “You?”

“No.  Not at all.”

“What are you two doing?”

Dani and Joey both nearly jump out of their skin with identical screams, which upends the bag of Doritos and sends the chips flying all over the coffee table and onto the floor.   Joey manages to knock the coffee table with his knee in the process, and the notebooks and computer skid across the glass surface with an ugly croak.  Then he checks to make sure that he hasn’t cracked the metal frame, sliding a sneaky hand along the frame just out of sight, because of course that would be his luck.

They look up and see Dani’s mother leaning against the doorframe to the den, one hand clapped over her mouth doing a very ineffectual job of hiding her snickers.  “Seriously, you guys have been too quiet,” she says, moving a little more into the room.  “That’s never a good sign.”

“We’re doing research,” Dani says stiffly, like she can’t stand for her mother to see just how rattled she got.

“Uh-huh.”  Dani’s mom leans over the table to glance at the television.  “Yeah, no.  In no universe anywhere does watching ‘The X-Files’ for three hours straight count as research.”

“It’s for a school project, Mrs. Jones,” Joey insists, even though he knows he’s not exactly the best liar in the world.

Dani nods, looking a lot more convincing than Joey ever could.  “It’s a special history class assignment,” she says.

Mrs. Jones looks at the TV again and crosses her arms over her chest.  “On alien super soldiers that bleed toxic green blood?”  The skeptical look on her face mirrors one that Joey’s seen directed at him from Dani one too many times, and it makes him squirm even more than Dani’s does.  Though he’s not sure if he’s squirming because she’s a lot closer to the truth than either of them would like to admit. 

“We’re studying 1990s pop culture?” Dani suggests with a shrug.

Dani’s mom just shakes her head, giving them a smirk.  “Joey, your dad called and he’s on his way to pick you up.  And you,” she turns to Dani, “you need to get ready for dinner because your Aunt Trish is taking us out tonight and I’m pretty sure she won’t like being ignored because of a TV show.”  She waves a hand at the table.  “So clean up the chips and get moving, you two.  Busy nights ahead.”  

The two kids sigh, sharing another disgruntled glance, and then move to start cleaning up the mess.

“Oh, and by the way,” she says, right before she leaves the den, “if you need any research tips, let me know.  I’m not half bad at it.”

“Really?” Joey asks Dani when he’s sure that her mother is out of earshot.

“Uh-huh,” Dani nods, scooping a handful of lurid orange crumbs up and depositing them on a crumpled sheet of scrap paper.  “Mom’s good at digging up all sorts of dirt.”  She shakes her head then, and gives Joey another look, chewing on her lower lip.  “Can I ask an awkward question?” 

“What?”

“How much do you really know about your parents?”

The question stops Joey in his tracks, kneeling on the carpet with one hand on the Dorito bag.  “What does that mean?” is all he says, once his brain actually comes up with an appropriate response.

She pauses, tugging at the ends of her ponytail as she searches for the right words.  “Like, where did they come from, how did they meet?  Where did they go to college?  Or about your grandparents?  Little things like that.  ‘Cause if they are alien clones, or secret Illuminati lizard people, maybe they don’t have those background things, which is why they didn’t tell you?  I mean, I know there’s a lotta things my parents haven’t told me, but I know enough to know they’re not lying.”

“They met in New Mexico, where I was born,” Joey offers up, trying to search through his memory for all of the things his parents have told him throughout the years.  “And my dad said that I was named after his dad, who had died before he was even born.  And also --”

The sound of voices filters in from the other room, bringing their conversation to a dead halt.  “Just think about it,” Dani says, before turning back to the mess of chips on the floor.

**********

The next day, before they’re finally granted freedom from school for the glorious winter break ahead, Joey heads down to the library and checks out a book.  It’s a school library, so no one blinks when he checks out a biography of the original Captain America.  Matter of fact, the librarian barely spares him a glance as she scans the book into the system and hands it over to him.

He barely has time to read over the next couple of days, what with his parents running around the house like crazy people trying to get ready for the upcoming holiday -  

(“It’s just the six of us,” Uncle Jimmy says, watching the action with a bit of an incredulous look, “and yet you’re still setting up like you’re arranging battle plans.”

“It’s tradition,” his dad fires back.)

But that night he manages to sneak a few pages of the biography in under the covers with a flashlight before his mom does her nightly rounds to make sure all the kids are sleeping.  He doesn’t learn much, it’s mostly a dry, academic introduction at the beginning of the book, but there’s one thing that catches his eye and stands out to him.  Apparently, Captain America’s father’s name was Joseph, and he’d died in World War I before his son was even born.

Which, aside from the whole World War I thing, is pretty much exactly the same story Dad had told him about where his name had come from.

Huh. 

The idea that comes to Joey’s mind as he drifts off to sleep is a far simpler one than any of the crazy ideas that he and Dani had been talking and researching and plotting out over the last few days.  But it whirls around in his head in that fuzzy sort of a way that happens right before dreamland starts.

What if Captain America didn’t really die fifteen years ago?  What if he just...retired, instead?  Met a nice girl, settled down, had a family.  People are reported dead all the time when they really aren’t, at least according to all of those Law and Order reruns his mother likes.

But that idea’s almost too simple to be possible...isn’t it?

**********

Wednesday, December 24th

“You’ve been awfully quiet all night,” Joey hears his mother say, and he looks up to see her twisted around in the car seat, staring back it him with a puzzled look on her face that’s highlighted by the occasional street light they pass by.

“‘M just tired,” he says, which isn’t a lie.  They’ve been running around all day, cleaning the house up and hanging up even more decorations, getting sent out on emergency grocery store runs with his dad, and attempting to wrap up his gifts for his parents without getting caught (Uncle Jimmy helped, of course).  Then, for Christmas Eve night, just like every year, they went out to Providence to have a nice dinner out at a fancy restaurant with their Grandpa.  Okay, Joey’s old enough that he knows that he’s not their real grandfather - it’s no secret that he’d married Mom’s mother when she was in high school.  But Sophie and Ben can’t tell the difference, so he’s just Grandpa, and that makes it easier for everyone.

And technically, when Joey really thinks about it, Uncle Jimmy isn’t blood family either, at least as far as he knows.  He and Dad always say that they grew up together.  Even if the simpler story is the real one and they really are... _ them _ , that part of the story is still true, easily verified by countless sources.  He’s spent most of the day observing, watching Dad and Uncle Jimmy and trying to see if he can spot the Captain and the Sergeant inside of them.  But all he sees is his family, his dad with his terrible taste in music and penchant for cardigan sweaters, and his uncle who’s always got the good advice for just about anything and prefers to spend time with his dog because she’s apparently the sweetest dog in the world.

Family doesn’t have to just follow one standard pattern, Joey’s learned.  ‘They might be crazy, but they’re mine.’

Now they’re heading back from dinner, the six of them crammed into the SUV as it winds down the back roads through the forest towards home so they can check out some of the glowing displays of Christmas lights that are scattered throughout the woods.  The night is cold, but clear - they’ve only had the occasional sprinkling of snow so far this winter, and the forecast doesn’t seem to include a white Christmas, unfortunately.  It’s more than a bit cramped in the SUV, what with Dad driving and Uncle Jimmy taking the passenger seat next to him because they’re the biggest, and Mom stuck in the middle seat in the back between Ben’s car seat on one side and Sophie on the other, who squirms with glee every time they pass a particularly tacky lights display.  Joey’s the ‘lucky’ one who’s ended up sitting in the little drop down seat in the trunk, though at least it means he can stretch his legs out somewhat.  And think about all things Captain America related without getting noticed.

“Well, we’ll be home soon,” Mom says.  “Then you can sleep, and in the morning Santa will have come with all the presents.”

Joey just gives his mom a look.  He’s twelve years old; he knows full well by now that Santa isn’t real.  Mom rolls her eyes in response and cocks her head in Sophie’s direction, then gives him a glare that clearly says ‘If you even think about spoiling this for your little sister the only thing you’re getting for Christmas is coal in your stocking.’

“Joey, look at that!” Sophie says, pointing out out the window.  “It’s so tacky; I love it!”  He turns to look, and sure enough the amount of inflatable elves and moving lighted reindeer set up on that one particular front lawn is enough to make his eyes burn.  “Can we get some of those elves for the house, Mommy?”

“Oh no,” Mom says, shaking her head rapidly.  “We’ve got our own lights up already, I don’t think we need to add any more for next year.”  Joey tactfully doesn’t mention the fact that almost every morning on the drive to school his mother threatens to shoot every inflatable ornament that she sees with that old archery kit of his from a few years back that’s been collecting dust in the basement ever since that phase passed.  

“I don’t know,” Dad chimes in from the front.  “It could be interesting to see how many neighbors we piss off next year.”

“Steve, stop being a troll,” Mom fires back, poking at his shoulder through his heavy winter coat.

“Yeah, Steve, stop being a troll,” Uncle Jimmy echoes with a grin that even Joey can tell all the way from the back of the truck is more than a bit evil.

Mom nods, then one hand goes up to tug her knit cap back into place.  “If both of us are saying it then you should probably listen.”

Dad just laughs, the sound happy and joyful enough that Joey feels strangely warm inside...like, no matter what happens, these are still  _ his _ parents, and nothing is going to change that.  “You know what, you two need to--”

But then Dad’s laughter is cut off as he spits out a curse, jerking the wheel of the SUV hard to the left as they swerve in the middle of the road with a screech of the brakes.  The truck keeps moving though, Joey’s seat belt digging hard into his chest as they spin out, skidding off the road and into the dirt and woods next to them.  He grabs onto the seat in front of him as the truck hurtles over the fallen branches and leaves that cover the soft slope heading away from the road, and he’s pretty sure he’s gripping onto the seat so tight his nails are ripping holes in the upholstery.  Sophie’s sharp scream cuts through the air, and after that, everything’s a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks and runs for cover because of that cliffhanger* You guys all know that I’m a sap, though, so stick with me - I promise this is going to have a happy ending. Especially as both Steve and Darcy and Bucky still have a lot of explaining to do...not to mention the explanations that our new characters on the scene are going to have to provide at some point in the series as to how exactly they’ve ended up in suburban Massachusetts. (I’ll update the tags to reflect them in a few days, just so I don’t spoil the surprise right away. Because I’m a dork like that.)
> 
> Also, with a title like that I couldn’t not include at least one reference to The X-Files in there. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is...well, it can be found right in their living room, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to DizzyRedhead for her always cracking beta work and reassuring me that I am not a shit writer, despite what my stupid brain says sometimes. ;) There aren't any other really pertinent notes, so let's get on with the show!

_ Still Christmas Eve… _

 

Several things happen at once, almost in slow motion, Joey thinks.

The truck jolts to a stop, the back wheels lifting off of the ground before crashing back down onto the forest floor.

There’s the sound of breaking glass coming from the front of the car, and he sees the windshield crack and shatter, sending a shower of crystalline shards over his dad and Uncle Jimmy.

Sophie’s still screaming, which is only enhanced by the sudden sobs coming from Ben on the other side of his mother.

And Mom…

Okay, that’s when things get really strange.

There’s a sharp, golden glow that suffuses the interior of the truck, and from what Joey can tell, it’s coming right from his mother’s hands, which are held out in front of her like she’s trying to shield her face from the spindly, bare tree branches that have crashed through the broken windshield.  Joey holds up his own hand, shaking a little bit from the shock of the accident, and sees that his own hand is also surrounded by those little golden sparkles, like they’re...almost protecting him as well.

What the...?

Then Mom makes an odd movement with her hands, like she’s tying a knot almost, and the tree branches in the car disappear in a second, turning into gold dust that evaporates with the cold wind that’s coming in through the cracked windows.  The golden glow fades right after that, leaving the car dark and still, with the only sound being rough, harsh breathing that melds with the wind.

“Joey, you okay back there?” Mom calls out to him, unbuckling her seatbelt and twisting around so that she can get her hands on both Ben and Sophie at once, to try and calm them down.  It’s easier to calm Sophie, whose screams die down to muffled sobs at the touch of Mom’s hand.  From what Joey can tell Ben’s still safely secured in his seat, hollering his head off, but pretty much okay otherwise.

“Yeah,” he says, stretching out his hands and legs to make sure everything is working right.  And aside from a bit of an ache in his shoulders from where they had been slammed against the side of the car, everything does seem okay, surprisingly.  

“Steve?  Jimmy?” Mom calls out next, turning her gaze towards the front of the car.  

Twin groans rise up, and Joey sees his Dad wave his right arm in the air.  The sleeve of his jacket is shredded from the tree branches, but he seems to be moving all right.  “We’re okay,” Dad says.  “A little squished, but yeah.  Okay.”  

Uncle Jimmy’s arm twitches, the small movement catching Joey’s eye.  Maybe his prosthetic got damaged, he wonders, but then he sees the gleam of metal there, plate-like forms shifting in the reflected light from the high beams, where the branches ripped both his clothes and the skin-type covering on the arm.  ‘Oh, that’s freaky,’ Joey thinks.

“How squished is squished?” Mom asks, leaning forward to poke her head between the seats.  Even though her back is towards him, Joey sees the sudden twitch of her shoulders and can easily imagine the grimace on her face.  “Okay, pretty squished.”

“We should be able to kick our way out of here,” he hears his Dad say, “but if it shakes the car we could end up even further down this hill.”

“All right, we get out first then,” Mom says with a nod of her head, and she turns back to look at Joey.  “Check the latch on the back there, does it still open?”

Joey reaches back and feels around until he finds the button that’ll open the back gate of the car.  He holds his breath as he presses it, the second delay between the click and the stuttering open of the door feeling almost interminable.  But then a rush of cold air slaps up against his face, making him inhale sharply at the shock of it, and it’s all too easy to see that the car’s still on firm ground.  Yeah, they’re on a bit of a slope with the car tilting forward, but he’s light and quick, he should be able to get out easily.

With a bit of a scramble Joey’s feet hit the ground, slipping on the damp leaves.  He’s out of the car though, and he can see his mother nodding at him.  “Get Sophie out next,” she calls back.  “Ben and I will go after her.”  Joey runs around the car, catching himself on the door handle when he slips on the leaves once more.  He pulls the door open, and Sophie all but throws herself into his arms.  

“You okay?” he asks her, and the only response is the sharp point of her chin digging into his chest as she nods.  Joey holds her even tighter, because what else can he do right about now?

A couple of seconds later Mom scrambles out of the wrecked car herself, one arm wrapped firmly around her midsection protecting where she’s zipped a still howling Ben into her jacket for as much warmth as possible.  She reaches out with her other arm and pulls Joey and Sophie towards her, smashing them all together.  Joey can feel his mother’s breathing against his cheek, harsh and rough and full of emotions.  “We’re okay,” she murmurs.  “We’re okay.”

“Are you clear?” Uncle Jimmy calls out.  Joey looks up to see his uncle leaning out the window, looking a bit bruised and battered with nasty scrape marks from the branches on the left side of his face, but on the whole clear eyed and otherwise unharmed.  It’s a relief, and that nasty knot of worry that’s been building up inside Joey loosens up a little.

“We’re good!” Mom yells back.  “Now get the hell out of that car!”

Uncle Jimmy’s head disappears, and for a few moments, the woods are mostly silent except for their breathing and the wind rattling the branches.  Then there’s a loud creaking and cracking sound, the noise of the metal of the car, he realizes.  The car shifts a bit, slipping down the incline a few more inches, and his mother gasps, her fingers digging hard into Joey’s shoulder.  The body of the passenger side door suddenly bulges out, almost like it’s been hit hard from the inside.  Which, it shouldn’t be possible for the average person to damage a car door with a single punch, but then he can light things on fire with his brain so Joey supposes he shouldn’t talk.  There’s another loud thud, and the door flies off its hinges, soaring through the air until it hits a tree trunk.  Uncle Jimmy tumbles out the opening then, rolling once before getting back to his feet and reaching back into the cab of the truck.  He pulls hard, though he doesn’t look at all like he’s straining, Joey notices, just before his Dad slithers the rest of the way out of the passenger side, the two of them landing in a heap on the forest floor.

The truck creaks again, slipping another couple of feet down the slope, but then not going any further.  His mom exhales loudly then, and unwinds her arm from around him to dig her phone out of her jacket pocket.  “I’m calling the police now,” she says as Dad and Uncle Jimmy pick themselves up and rush over to the rest of them.  They huddle around, forming a nice, tight little circle with the kids in the middle.  

“Do you need a light?” Joey asks.

“Huh?”  Joey holds his hand up, creating a neat little ball of flickering orange flame right in the center of his palm.  “Oh.  Thank you,” Mom says, looking a bit flabbergasted before turning her eyes back down to her phone.

“Daddy, what happened?” Sophie asks in a small voice, which just makes Dad move even closer to her, sheltering her from the cold air.

“There were some deer in the road,” Dad says with a sigh.  “I didn’t want to hit them.”  Dad doesn’t look all that great, Joey thinks, with the right arm of his coat shredded and some bloodied scratches peeking through the fabric, and the mirror image of the same scrapes that Uncle Jimmy has on his face also.  There’s a cut up by his hairline that’s oozing blood down towards his temple, but he doesn’t seem dazed or out of it, which years of playing hockey has taught Joey is a good sign.

Sophie nods.  “I’m glad you didn’t hit them,” she says, which makes Uncle Jimmy huff out a laugh and shake his head.

The call to 911 is quick and succinct, with Mom reporting that their car ran off the road, that yes, everyone was out of the car and all right so no, no ambulance was needed (“I’ll call Dr. Corin when we get back to the house, just in case,” Mom says off to the side, pressing the phone against her cheek briefly to cover up the speaker, “she’ll do an emergency house call even on Christmas.”) but that the car was wrecked and they would definitely need a tow truck.  Ben begins to fuss again, getting all grouchy from where he’s still bundled up in her jacket, and so Mom hands off the phone to Uncle Jimmy while she wraps her other arm tightly around the baby, bouncing in place to try and settle him.  “Steve,” she says, low enough that Joey can barely make it out.  “Clean your face off.”  She digs a pack of baby wipes out of her coat pocket and tosses it to him.

Dad catches the pack and fishes out one of the wipes, scrubbing at the blood that’s begun to go sticky on his face.  When he pulls the wipe away, Joey can’t help but notice that the cuts already look halfway to healed, sealed over like they’d happened a week ago instead of ten minutes ago.   _ More evidence for the theory _ , he thinks as his Dad rearranges his heavy scarf to cover up any blood that’s dripped onto his collar.  Then Dad just turns to Uncle Jimmy and wings the pack his way, who grabs it out of the air with a silent nod towards the cell phone in his hand.  The next thing Dad does is pick up Sophie, who’s looking a bit worn out and cold herself and holds her close, trying to shelter her from the outdoors also.  

“Mom, what did you do?” Joey blurts out, before he even realizes he’s speaking.

“Huh?”

“Mom, you waved your hands and you made the tree disappear,” Joey continues, his voice dropping down low, just in case anyone who’s not them is passing by, because he knows how other people can be.  “How did you do that?”

Mom’s eyes are wide behind her glasses, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times as she bounces Ben about to keep him calm and quiet.  Then she shakes her head, looking incredibly worried as she turns to Dad.  “I, I don’t know,” she says, sounding more worried and nervous than she even did earlier when they were trying to get out of the car.  “I don’t know.  I just reacted.”

Dad’s hand drops down onto Joey’s shoulder, heavy and warm and reassuring.  “We can talk about it and figure it out later.  Right now let’s just get home.”

Joey looks up at his dad and, yet again, his mouth gets the better of him, though when he actually sits down to think about it later he’s almost surprised he didn’t do this earlier given everything.  “And we can talk about why those fresh scratches on your face are all healed up now too, right?”

Dad swallows roughly, his jaw twitching slightly, but he nods again anyway.  “Yeah, we can.”

**********

“All right.  Yeah, thanks.  We’ll see you soon.”  Darcy clicks the phone off and holds it close to her chest, tapping her nails on the back of the case as she stares out the kitchen window.  It overlooks their backyard, which is really more of a clearing amidst the old forest that surrounds them.  The trees look admittedly eerie, bare branches that look half broken as they stretch up towards the night sky, but Darcy’s always found them comforting in an odd sort of a way.  They’re home, really, and a part of her, a dizzy, slightly absurdist part of her, feels bad that she had obliterated the tree branch earlier that night.

Then again, her kids were in danger.  It wasn’t a hard choice.

She runs a free hand through her hair, tugging at it until her eyes water.  It’s not enough to clear the fog out of her brain and settle her down; she still feels itchy and out of sorts, for lack of a better description, and Darcy doesn’t like it one bit.  She supposes it’s just the aftermath of an accident, that adrenaline rush attempting to work its way out of her body...at least, that’s what she tells herself.

Even she doesn’t quite believe it.

She hears Steve’s footsteps padding along the short hall to the kitchen.  “Joey and Soph are upstairs getting into their pajamas,” he says as Darcy turns his way.  “But they’re refusing to go to sleep until we talk,” he finishes on a sigh.

“It’s fine,” Darcy replies with an offhand shrug.  “Dr. Corin’s going to stop by in a couple of hours anyway, just to give them the once over.  They can stay awake until she gets here.”

Steve nods, brushing past Darcy to get some water.  Her eyes follow him as he drinks, leaning against the sink.  “And how are you doing?” he asks, giving her a pointed look.

Darcy doesn’t answer right away, instead turning back to the window and staring out at the branches once more.  She chews at the inside of her cheek until the skin there is raw and worried, all the words spinning around in her head before they fumble their way out of her mouth.  “What the hell did I do out there?  In all the years I’ve been dealing with this, that out there?  That has  _ never _ happened before.  I can still feel that energy in my body, and I can’t fucking calm down.  It’s the strangest thing.”  

“I’m pretty sure if you didn’t do whatever it was you did we’d all be a lot worse off than a wrecked car and some scratches.”

“I know.”  She walks over to Steve, all but banging her head against his shoulder in frustration.  Steve just reaches out and loops his arms around her waist, keeping her closer.  “Rationally, I know that.  But everything I’ve ever done with the energy in the past has always been small stuff, you know?  Little carvings to calm myself down and keep the baby sleeping at night are a hell of a lot different from that out there.  And then when I try to do something deliberately and purposefully big with the energy it goes totally tits up.  You remember the body-swapping thing, right?  That was all sorts of not good.”

Steve shrugs, a sly grin stealing across his face.  “I don’t know; it had its moments.”

“You know what I mean,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes.  “But now, without even realizing it?  I vaporized a goddamn tree!”

“Technically, you just blitzed a branch.”

“That was coming through the windshield of our car!  With our kids in it!”

“Who you stopped from getting hurt.  We both know that when Dr. Corin shows up here she’s going to find that they’re all perfectly fine and healthy, if a little concerned that their parents are suddenly doing things as weird as they are.  Which they want an explanation for.  Now.”  Steve sighs again, resting his forehead against hers.  “I thought we had a little more time before we’d have to get into the tough talks.”

“Worse than the how babies are made talk?”

The groan that Steve lets out at that is loud and long.  “I had blocked those memories out.  Thanks for bringing them back up.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”  Darcy smirks, then stretches up to kiss the point of his chin delicately.

“And really, you can blame Bucky for the diagrams.”

She pulls back, levelling a glare at Steve.  “What the hell did you two do to traumatize my boy?”

“I’m pretty sure he was too busy laughing at us to be traumatized.”

**********

Normally, Sophie respects the door rule - that if the door to Joey’s room is closed, then she should not, under pains of death or singed hair, enter under any circumstances.  This is an unusual night, however, and Joey barely blinks when she knocks once on the door and then barges in.  Luckily he’s already changed into clean pajamas, so it’s a lot less embarrassing than it potentially could have been.  Sophie slams the door behind her and then proceeds to leap onto Joey’s bed, bouncing a couple of times before landing on her butt.  

“What are you doing?”  Joey groans when he sees her kick her heels on the bed, all but giggling as they digs into the comforter.  “And why are you so hyper?”

“I think Mom’s a witch,” Sophie says gleefully.  “Did you see what she did?  That was amazing!”

“I only saw it from the back.”  He looks down at his phone once more, waiting for a text message from Dani which he’s pretty sure won’t come until morning.  As soon as they all got back from the accident, after the police had shown up and questioned everyone (and implied that Dad was drunk until he’d yanked the breathalyzer out of the cop’s hand and proved otherwise), after the tow truck had pulled the SUV out of the ditch and hauled it off for “repairs” or just to be declared a total loss, which is more likely, after they’d crammed into the very uncomfortable backseats of the cop cars for a ride home - after all of that he’d texted Dani to fill her in about the rapid and near impossible healing he’d seen happening with his dad and uncle.  But considering that it was almost eleven PM, she was probably asleep.  “I saw her hands moving.  What did she really do?”

Sophie shrugs, pushing her long, dark hair out of her face as she looks up towards the ceiling, deep in thought.  “I don’t even think Mom knows.  She looked really surprised once she noticed everything was all glowy.”

“So why do you think she’s a witch?”

“Because she did magic.  Duh.”  The phrase about magic being science we just don’t understand yet hovers on Joey’s lips, which is most certainly his Aunt Jane’s influence, but Sophie probably wouldn’t appreciate it, he knows.  “Maybe Dad’s a witch too,” she continues on, bouncing in place again.

“No, I think Dad’s Captain America instead,” Joey retorts.

The look that Sophie gives him reminds him all too much of Mom, that sort of ‘I know you’re feeding me a line of BS look but by all means, go ahead,’ type of look.  “Dad draws comic books about superheroes, but he’s not one of them.”

“Look, though.”  He reaches under his pillow and pulls out the Captain America biography, flipping to the selection of restored color pictures in the center of it.  “Tell me that they don’t look like Dad and Uncle Jimmy,” he says, jabbing a finger at the prominent picture of Captain America and Bucky Barnes.  

Sophie leans in close, chewing at her lower lip as she studies the picture.  “They do kinda look the same.”  She glances back up at Joey, wondering.  “You going to ask Mom and Dad about that too?”

“Maybe.  I don’t know.  Maybe just so they can tell me I’m crazy and seeing things?  But did you see those cuts on Dad’s head from the branches?  They’re already all healed up.”

“I still think he’s a witch.  That would be a lot more fun.”

Footsteps echo on the staircase, and Joey hastily shoves the book back under the pillow.  “Soph?  Joey?” Mom calls out, right before she pokes her head around the doorframe.  “You want to come downstairs?  We know you said you had questions.”

When they get to the living room, Dad’s sitting on the couch, tapping his fingers erratically against his knee.  Uncle Jimmy’s perched in one of the two recliners with Ben stretched out along his chest snoozing away.  He’s swapped out his earlier sweater for a t-shirt, Joey notices, and the ripped up cover of his prosthetic has been removed totally, revealing a fully metal arm with articulated plates and metal fingers that move just as smoothly as real ones as they stroke up and down Ben’s back.  “All right, question time,” Mom says, curling up in the opposite corner of the couch and pulling Sophie into her lap.  Joey just stands there awkwardly, wondering what he should do with himself before dropping down onto the second recliner and giving his Dad a hard stare. 

The room is eerily silent for a few moments, which is only broken by Mom’s groan.  “All right, someone start talking before we all fall asleep,” she says.  

Dad takes a deep breath, and then looks up straight at him.  “Joey, you wanted to know why the scratches patched themselves up, right?”

“Yeah.  Because you gotta admit that’s pretty freaky.”

Dad huffs out a light laugh, shaking his head.  “You’re not wrong.  I was pretty sick as a kid.  A lot of ailments that weren’t getting better as I got older.  But I got an opportunity to undergo an experimental treatment.  I was in the Army years ago, long before I even knew your mother, and they helped to fix up everything that wasn’t working with my body...with a few additional side effects.”

Sophie sits up a little straighter and peers around Mom’s body over at Joey, who’s working his hardest to make sure that his face isn’t giving anything away.  Because both he and Sophie know that that story that Dad just told them, in its absolute bare bones form, is pretty much identical to the whole original Captain America origin story in that Saturday morning cartoon about the old Avengers team that they’d both watched.  

But this is isn’t a cartoon, and there’s got to be more to the story.  He doesn’t think his dad is lying to them, not at all...but the story’s got a few holes in it that are big enough to drive a truck through.  How, though, to mention  _ that? _

“Hang on,” Joey mumbles, jumping out of the chair and dashing upstairs.  He thunders back down them a moment later, something hidden behind his back while bees take up residence in his stomach.  

_ This is it… _

“Does it have anything to do with this?” Joey asks, walking towards Dad and all but tossing the Captain America biography in his lap.

Dad’s mouth drops open a little, looking almost like he’s been slapped in the face with a dead fish.  He hears Mom mumble “Oh, shit,” under her breath, sounding as surprised as Dad looks.

And in his arm chair, Uncle Jimmy just shakes his head and facepalms, the clink of the metal hand against his skin sounding all too loud in the suddenly silent room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, it's still a bit of a cliffhanger, but nowhere near as bad as the last one, right? Hit up my tumblr at aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com for sneak previews and other little side snippets from this universe.


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the truth finally comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been forever since I last updated. But at least the story is complete now?

Everyone in the living room is entirely still, barely breathing, barely moving, just...waiting.  Joey shifts from foot to foot, taking in the look of surprise on his Dad’s face and the wary one on Mom’s.  “How much of that is true?” Joey asks.  “If any of it is?”  He doesn’t feel the need to tack on ‘or am I just going crazy’ at the end, even though it’s one of the first things in his head.

Dad picks up the book and runs a couple of fingers over the glossy pictures on the cover, tracing the lettering of the title slowly.  “I remember when this book came out,” he says carefully.  “One step above a tabloid, the critics were calling it.”  

He raises his eyes to Joey, face solemn and still.  “I didn’t bother to give them an interview, and they went ahead with it anyway.”  Dad tosses the book onto the coffee table, though Joey can barely hear the resulting thud thanks to the sudden buzzing in his ears.  “Why are they using this book in a middle school library?  If you’re going to do your research, you may want to consider better sources.”

Joey sits down on the coffee table, never taking his stare away from his dad.  “Better sources?” he parrots.

“Yeah.”  Dad nods in the direction of the book.  “They got one thing right at least.  I was born on July 4, 1918.  Your uncle there was born about a year before that...”

**********

“So...any questions?”

This time Mom is the one who groans, the heavy metal of her wedding ring thunking against her forehead as she reaches up to rub at her temples.  “Steve, don’t be dense, of course they’re going to have questions.”

“About three days worth of questions,” Joey mumbles, looking down at where he’s digging his toes into the carpet.

Actually, there’s really only one question that’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite force it past his lips.  Dad’s explanation had been...surprisingly thorough, explaining how things started, why they went downhill as badly as they did, and the resulting conclusion of ‘well, if everyone thinks he’s dead maybe a little time away wouldn’t be so bad.’  

But there’s still a part of the story that’s missing, something that he can’t put his finger on just yet.  So instead, Joey turns to his mother.  “What about you, Mom?  Where did the -” he waves his hands about in the air to mimic what he remembered seeing from the car “- thing come from?”

Mom blows some air out between pursed lips, which gets Dad and Uncle Jimmy looking over at her as well.  “I wouldn’t mind hearing this as well,” Uncle Jimmy chimes in, carefully shifting Ben in his arms.  Mom presses her lips together again, and runs a hand over Sophie’s head, who’s busy giving her own suspicious look.

“Well...remember when I said that I’d watched the Battle of New York on TV in Norway?”

“Yeah.”

“So, technically, that wasn’t the first, or the last time I’d encountered aliens.  Asgardians, specifically.”

“You’re talking about Thor, right?  The one Aunt Jane dated years ago?” Joey asks.  It’s no secret that Aunt Jane once dated an alien; that was some of the easiest information to find when he’d been reading up on the original Avengers back in the day.  

“Yes, and I was there too.  May have gotten beamed through an alien portal once or twice too.”  Mom shrugs, looking suspiciously nonchalant, which everyone seems to be picking up on.  “Then after that things got a little weird for me.”  

A buzzing comes from the coffee table, and she leans forward to pick up her cellphone.  “Dr. Corin’s a block away,” she says, reading off the text message.  “We’ll continue this conversation after she’s examined everyone.”

“But -” Dad and Uncle Jimmy state in unison, and both are cut off by Mom’s upraised hand.

“Everyone.  No arguments.”

**********

“You know, Mom, you could have mentioned that Dr. Corin has some weird talents of her own.”

“Considering what I’ve been through and what your dad’s got floating around in his bloodstream, we figured it was better to go to a doctor who was...sympathetic to things rather than inclined to call the feds on us.”

**********

“Joey, what are you still doing up?”

Joey pulls his eyes away from the still-glowing Christmas tree to look at his dad, who’s standing in the doorway to the living room looking like he’s just rolled out of bed, rumpled pajamas and hair sticking up in all directions.  It’s 4:30 in the morning though, he probably really did just come from bed, Joey realizes.  “‘M not tired,” he mumbles, going back to his in-depth review of the tree.

That’s entirely a lie.  He’s exhausted, bone deep, but his brain won’t shut up after everything it’s been through.  So it’s better to get up out of bed and move around rather than sleep, he figures.  

“Yeah, try telling me that again when you don’t look like you’re about to fall over.”  Dad sits down next to Joey on the couch, placing a careful hand on his back.  “I know it’s been an...exciting night,” Dad says.  “How are you holding up?”

“Can I ask you a question?  About,” Joey waves a hand in the air, attempting to encompass everything they’ve been through with one singular movement, “this?”

Dad nods.  “Go ahead.”

Joey twists his hands in front of him, trying to find the right words.  “You were a real, legit superhero,” he eventually says.  “Captain America, the First Avenger, the Living Legend.  How could you walk away from all of that?  Even when things weren’t all that great?”  He glances over at his dad, trying to find the lines of the superhero’s face beneath the neatly trimmed beard and bedhead Dad’s currently got going.  

This time Dad’s the one who takes a deep breath, nodding again as he thinks over the question.  “The life that the Avengers live...really, the life of anyone who makes it a mission to protect others, it’s not an easy one.  You have to make hard decisions.  Sometimes it’s easy to live with those decisions.  You know what you’ve done is right, even if it wasn’t easy, and that helps.”

“But every choice you make weighs on you.  And you don’t always make the right choice, and that weighs on you too.”  Joey can feel his dad’s hand clench on his back.  “And there came a day when I would look at myself in the mirror and I’d barely recognize the guy looking back at me.”

Joey frowns, twisting to look at his dad.  “But...Captain America is like, the good guy of all the good guys?”

A wry grin twists Dad’s lips, and it’s almost a grimace.  “Yeah, but there’s still a difference between Captain America and Steve Rogers.”

“So what, you’re saying you’re really a dick but because you’re a superhero you had to be all good all the time?”

“Language, Joey.”

“I’ve been in the car with you when we’re stuck in traffic if you wanna talk about language.”

Dad pauses a second, then cocks his head.  “Fair point.  And it’s not about being a good or a bad person, it’s about...wanting to be treated as a person instead of a symbol.  I wanted to be just Steve for a while, because it felt like the last time I was just Steve was in 1943.”

“Did it feel weird, leaving everything behind?”  

“A little bit.  But I didn’t sever every tie, you know?  Sam and I still talk, and there are a couple of other people who can get a hold of me if they need to.  Bucky...Uncle Jimmy followed me because if there’s anyone who needed more of a break than I did it’s him.”

“Sam...as in Sam Wilson, current Captain America?”  Joey frowns, and gives his dad a pointed glare.  “As in Uncle Sam who sends me tickets to hockey games for every birthday?”

Dad just grins.  “He’s a lot better at keeping his public and private lives separate than I ever was.”

Joey keeps frowning and slumps back down against the couch, listing into his Dad’s side.  “This is too weird.  I thought I was supposed to be the weird one in this family,” he says, holding up a finger and watching as a little bit of dull red flame dances around the tip of it.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

Dad shrugs, keeping his eyes on Joey the whole time.  “I, I don’t know.  I don’t need to go back, and Uncle Sam’s holding down everything a lot better than I ever did.  But, no one knows what the future holds.  I know that for certain.”

“Ah.”  Joey doesn’t reply, but then again, how can he?  What exactly is he even supposed to say to a statement like that?

“Hey,” Dad says, grabbing onto Joey’s shoulder.  “Look at me.”  

Joey turns to see Dad sitting up straight, giving him one of the most intent stares anyone’s ever given him.  “I can say this though, with all certainty: what we’ve got here in this house?  This is everything I want in this life, and nothing will ever change that.  You get me?”

Joey just nods, suddenly feeling like he wants to cry but knowing that he’s not going to give into that anytime soon.  Instead, he leans over to give Dad the biggest hug he can, squeezing tightly.  

Dad’s arms wrap around him in return, and he can feel him smack a kiss to the top of his head.  “Love you, kiddo,” he murmurs.  “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“‘M still not tired,” Joey mutters, stubbornly, even though he can feel his eyes getting heavier and heavier.

“All right,” Dad says, the amusement clear in his voice.  “We’ll watch some TV instead.  What are you in the mood for?”

Five minutes into the recap of a New York Rangers game from a few days earlier, both father and son are passed out on the couch, sleeping deeply and soundly.

**********

Upstairs, Darcy is most definitely not asleep.  How could she even be expected to sleep after the night they’ve had?  She looks down at Ben, calmly and quietly snoozing away in her arms, and she envies his ability to drop off so easily.  Sophie curls up next to her, taking up Steve’s usual spot, and she looks asleep, so that’s two of the kids at least.  

How the hell could she have been so naive, to think that the kids wouldn’t have realized that their parents were hiding things - and some pretty major things at that - from them?  There’s the desire to shelter and protect her children, always, but still - they’re growing up fast, and with any luck will be smarter than she or Steve ever was.  She should have known that they would see through them and want to know the truth eventually.

Darcy just wishes she’d had a little more time to prepare what to say, but the best laid plans and all that.

“Mommy?”  She hears the little whisper next to her, and looks down to see Sophie rolled over in bed, staring up at her, wide eyes gleaming in the glow from the little nightlight in the corner.

“What is it, baby?” 

“Are you a witch?”

Sophie speaks with such earnestness and certainty that Darcy can’t help but giggle and run a hand over her kid’s head.  “I’m not a witch.”

“But you did magic out there,” Sophie says with a deep frown on her face.

“Well, you remember what your Aunt Jane always says, that magic is just a form of science we don’t understand.”

“That looked a lot more like fun than science,” Sophie fires back, loud enough that it makes Ben grunt and nuzzle his face into Darcy’s chest once more.

“Keep it down a little,” Darcy says, running her hand up and down Ben’s back in the hopes that he’ll stay asleep.  “And I’m not sure if it’s magic or science, to be honest,” she continues on in a lower voice.  “I don’t really know why it happened, just that it did.”

Maybe she doesn’t know why it happened, but at the very least she knows when it happened.  There was that memorable incident in London, when she’d been beamed through the portal thanks to one of Jane’s devices.  Before that, she’d been entirely (well, mostly) average.  

But afterwards?  It was like she couldn’t control the energy that seemed to be emanating from her damn pores.  And after she’d blown more than one fuse from sheer frustrated thoughts in the small London flat they’d been sharing for a while, something had to be done.

Thor had been surprisingly helpful in giving her ideas for how to control the energy (she can’t call it magic.  That would be...just too much).  He’d given her the books with the runes in them, and taught her how to read them, and how to translate them into channels for the energy.  

Darcy wishes that she could call up Thor now, to ask him all of the questions whirling around in her brain about her babies, but once he and Jane had broken up it had become entirely awkward to try and get in touch with him...and being honest, he hadn’t been seen on Earth in over a decade now, at least in the public eye.  

_ So that’s a dead end... _ Darcy thinks, cuddling Ben closer, feeling his breathing deep and even against her.  But like a bolt of lightning, the next thought hits her.   _ What triggered their powers? _  Because she knows,  _ she knows _ that her babies haven’t had these powers their whole lives.  They may have buried their heads in the sand a bit about the sturdiness the kids inherited from Steve’s serum, but she knows she didn’t miss any sudden explosions of power from them, especially given her own experiences.

“Hey, baby?” she whispers, running her free hand over Sophie’s head.

“Hmm?” Sophie mumbles, sounding mostly asleep now.

“Do you remember what happened when you first got your abilities?”

Sophie shrugs, an odd squirm of her shoulders against Darcy’s side.  “Ask Joey,” she says around a yawn, eyes fluttering shut as she drops off to sleep.

Darcy really, really envies her kid’s ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

**********

Darcy’s sleep - the little that she manages to get - is fitful and restless.  But she stays put until seven a.m. so as not to disturb Ben, who’s splayed out against her chest, snoozing away, and Sophie, who’s still curled next to her, sleeping deep and sound after the excitement of the night before.  The room is getting lighter though, and she’s got things to do, so she carefully puts Ben back in his crib, securing the makeshift mesh fabric cover they’d tossed together in place, just in case he starts to do his floating thing once more.

Downstairs, Bucky’s already in the kitchen, pouring coffee into mugs for the adults.  “Here,” he says, handing a cup over.  “Merry Christmas.”

Darcy snorts, burying her face in her mug and inhaling deeply.  “Same to you.  I’d almost forgotten with all of the craziness last night.”  She drinks, hoping like hell the caffeine gets into her bloodstream quickly and perks her up to the point of passing as somewhat human.  “Where’s Steve?”

Bucky motions towards the living room with his head.  “Passed out on the couch with Joey.  It sounds like they were up late talking.”

“This is going to be a zombie Christmas, isn’t it?” Darcy says with a sigh.  “We’re going to be good for fuck all today.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky fires back.  “I’ll make sure that we have a good Christmas, even if that means calling for take-out.”

“Thank you.”  She drinks some more coffee, then takes a deep breath.  “All right.  Time to go check out the presents situation before Sophie remembers Santa was supposed to stop by.”

“Like I said, don’t worry,” Bucky says between his own mouthfuls.  “I already got the gifts out of Steve’s studio for you.”

“Bless you.”

Darcy takes her mug with her as she wanders into the living room, feeling the warmth leech into cold hands.  The TV is still going, some early morning infomercial, but otherwise the room is quiet.  And there on the couch, wrapped up in multiple blankets and tipped over into a dogpile of human bodies, are Steve and Joey, snoozing away.  

She takes a moment to give her boys an indulgent look, healthy and whole even after their adventurous night.  But she can’t dwell on the what-might-have-beens, Darcy reminds herself.  Her family is still here, and intact, and if a few secrets coming to light is the only lasting outcome of the night, she shouldn’t complain.

Even if she does still have questions.

Steve stirs on the couch, eyes blinking blearily open and wandering around the room until they land on Darcy...and her coffee mug.  “Need a sip?” she asks, holding out the mug.

One arm stretches from the blankets and Steve grabs for the cup, knocking back a healthy slug of his own before handing it back.  “Thanks.  Good morning,” he mumbles, still mostly asleep.

“Did you sleep down here all night?”

“Near enough.”  Steve runs a hand back through his hair, already messy enough from the night spent on the couch.  “Joey and I were up talking for a while.”

“Well, we did have an exciting night full of revelations.  I’m not surprised he has questions.  Come on, budge up.”  Darcy motions at the couch, and Steve squirms around until there’s just enough room for Darcy to wedge herself into the space between his legs, settling back against his chest and letting his body heat soak into her.

“Understatement of the year, that,” Steve says, giving her head a sleepy nuzzle as his arms wind around her waist.

The pile of blankets and boy taking up the other side of the couch grumbles, just before Joey’s head pokes out and gives his parents a glare.  “Morning, sunshine,” Darcy says with a grin.  “Merry Christmas.”

Joey forces himself somewhat upright, eventually slouching against the opposite corner of the couch.  “Can we put Christmas off until tomorrow?”

“How about until your sister wakes up?”

“Ugh.”  Joey grimaces, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders.  “No deal.”

Darcy stretches out a foot and pokes Joey with a toe, gently.  “You awake enough for a couple of questions?”

“Am I gonna get in trouble for these?”

Darcy shakes her head.  “No.  I promise.  I’m just trying to learn more about what happened.”  

Joey just shrugs, and she feels Steve’s hand rubbing up and down her back, a small measure of comfort.  He feels much more relaxed than she does, but he’s got to be equally as curious as she is.  

“Your...abilities,” Darcy begins, hesitantly, trying to find the right words to describe what she’s thinking, “did you know you had them even when you were a baby?  Or was it a...later development?”

Joey sits up straighter, picking at the blanket briefly.  Darcy’s struck by how grown up her baby boy looks, a young man rather than the child she could have sworn he was just moments ago.   _ Don’t grow up too fast, _ she thinks.  

“Do you remember the day when Ben was born?” Joey asks.

Darcy just levels him a look.  Ben was a home birth without anesthesia, same as all of her other births, a healthy nine and a half pounds.  Of course she remembers.  “Distinctly,” is all she says.

“Yeah.  Anyway, while we were waiting for you to...get on with things, Sophie and I were in the kitchen.  And I could have sworn that we saw something moving in the woods outside.  I was going to run and get Uncle Jimmy to see if he could tell what it was, but Soph ended up running out anyway so I chased after her.  It was raining, downpouring, and we were soaking wet.  Then, when we got to the woods, there wasn’t anything weird there.  It was just like usual.  But then…”

“Then?” Steve prods, carefully, trying to urge the words along as gently as possible.  

Joey opens his mouth a few times, fishing for the right words.  “I don’t even really know,” he says.  “It’s like...it almost looked like a portal, from a video game.  Just...yellow and sparking, right there in between the trees.”

“A portal?” Darcy blurts out, startled between the sudden similarities that have cropped up between their incidents.

Joey shrugs.  “It’s just what came to mind.  I don’t think it was alien, at least.  It seemed...earthly?  I guess?  I don’t know.”

“How could you tell--” Steve begins, before he’s cut off by Darcy gently elbowing him in the stomach.

“Did anyone come out of it?” Darcy asks.  She definitely, clearly remembers the aliens that came out of the portals over London, and hopes like hell that her baby boy didn’t ever encounter them.

“Maybe?  If they did, they were moving fast enough that we couldn’t see them.  But something came through, and it was like a shockwave, knocked both me and Soph off our feet and sent the sparks out in all directions.  I don’t think I was unconscious, but I don’t know for sure.  Sophie was shaking me though, to see if I was okay.”

“Were you hurt?”  She doesn’t recall seeing the kids walk in with injuries, but she has to admit, even if it’s only to herself, that she was a bit preoccupied with the whole birthing process at the time.

He shakes his head, hair flying in all directions.  “If I was, it wasn’t any worse than after a hockey game.”

“That is not reassuring, kiddo.”

This time Joey rolls his eyes.  “Anyway.  We were getting up to head back inside...and there was one of those coyotes the town keeps sending out flyers about, standing between us and the backyard.  Sophie screamed, and I went to grab a rock or something to throw at it...and then whoosh.  Fire.”  He shrugs again, unable to meet his parents’ eyes as he picks at the blanket.  “That was the first time.  You’ve seen what’s happened since.  And that’s pretty much it.”

Darcy just nods, feeling Steve’s head sneak over her shoulder and the point of his chin dig in.  His arms are tight around her waist now.  “Thank you for sharing that, Joey,” she says, reaching out to take his hand and get him to look up at them.  “I promise,” she continues once he looks up, “you are not in trouble.”

“Technically, we didn’t even do anything,” Joey points out.

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

“So...what happens now?” Joey asks.

Darcy glances over her shoulder at Steve, who just shrugs helplessly.  That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?  And neither one of them has any good answer to it. 

The footsteps pounding down the stairs breaks the silence, and Darcy’s head whips back around.  “For now?  We enjoy Christmas, and worry about the rest of it tomorrow.”  

A couple of seconds later Bucky rounds the corner into the living room, Ben on his hip and Sophie hanging off of his back. 

“Merry Christmas to me,” Sophie says, sliding off and heading straight for the presents under the brightly lit tree.  She freezes, rather guiltily at the sound of Steve’s throat clearing, and gives her parents what is obviously the most innocent look she can muster up, at least to Darcy’s eyes.  

“Just go,” Darcy groans, adding in an eyeroll and a waved hand for good measure.  Sophie turns back to the presents with a near manic grin, and Joey all but rolls off the couch to join her by the tree.  Bucky sets Ben down on the floor and watches indulgently as the baby crawls for the wrapping paper, settling down so he can keep an eye on all of the kids, not just the littlest one.

Darcy twists again so she can get a glimpse of Steve, watching the scene under the tree with a look of utter contentment and peace on his face.  “Still happy?” she whispers, pressing a quick kiss to the point of his bearded chin.

“Still happy,” he whispers back, with a smile of his own.


	6. Epilogue I

“Why did you have to tell Mom and Dad?” Sophie whines, pacing back and forth on the front porch as she and Joey watch Frankie sniffing around the downed branches and crisp leaves decorating the yard.  “We promised we weren’t going to tell them!”

“Yeah, but that was before we knew about...about  _ them, _ ” Joey fires back, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his jacket because while it’s warmer than usual, it’s still the end of December.  “They get it, and they’re okay with it.  And they know that we didn’t do anything to cause this, so why should we worry?”

Sophie slouches down on the swinging bench and winces as the chill from the wood soaks through her pants.  “They’re not mad that we went into the woods without permission?”

“Nope.  And even if they were, we now have a ton of proof that Dad’s even worse at following orders than we are.”  Joey shrugs, and gives his sister an impish look as he sits down next to her.

“Captain America.”  Sophie shakes her head, gazing across the yard at the car that’s stopped at the curb.  The door open and Dani hops out with a wave, strolling across the yard to greet Frankie with enthusiastic pettings.  “We are too weird,” she continues as Joey waves back to acknowledge Mrs. Jones, just before she drives off again.

Dani hops onto the porch, coming to a stop in front of the two on the swing.  “So...good Christmas?” she asks.

“You’re not funny,” Joey says.  He’d filled her in on everything over text message anyway, so there’s no reason for her to play dumb.  

Dani just grins, and swings her backpack down, landing on the porch with a dull clunk.  “Don’t worry, I come with a peace offering.  You two ever heard of the Hero of Harlem?”


	7. Epilogue II

The pile of dead branches sitting in the backyard, well away from the house, is stacked up to where it’s just about as tall as Joey is, creaking in the winter wind and listing unsteadily over to one side.  “Are you sure about this?” Joey asks, giving his dad a very nervous look.

“Positive,” Steve replies, hoisting the garden hose in his hand and giving it an experimental squeeze, sending a spray of water off in the other direction.  There are also a couple of actual fire extinguishers behind him as well, ready and waiting for action.  “Now go for it.  Hit it with everything that you’ve got.”

Joey nods, then focuses his gaze on the branches.  He takes a deep breath, feeling that power dredge up from inside.  It’s a small spark at first, but he can feel it build and grow within, until it has to pour out somehow.  The fire starts at the base of the branch pile, growing steadily upwards and making the branches crackle even more.  

But then the sound of a goose calling off in the distance takes Joey’s concentration away for just a moment.  A jet of yellow-orange flame explodes from one side of the pile unexpectedly, and Joey waves his hand quickly, trying to get it to disperse and fade away.  It doesn’t work, though, and on the other side of the branch pile the flames begin to creep across the dried grass of the backyard.

The whole thing is quickly contained in a matter of seconds when Steve turns the hose on the flames, shutting down the fire before it spreads across the backyard.  And before Mom finds out about it, Joey thinks, because then they’d both be in a lot of trouble for this genius idea.  

“Okay,” Steve nods, walking around the pile and staring down at the flame marks.  “You’ve definitely got power, but your control isn’t great.”

“So…”

Steve looks up from the pile and directly at Joey.  “I’m not saying it’s a problem, just stating what I saw.”

“Does that mean you’re going to try to control me?” Joey blurts out, even if he doesn’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“No,” Steve says, smirking as he rounds the pile fully to stand next to Joey.  “It’s a...the world’s not a kind place sometimes, especially if you’re different.  But you’ve got this extra ability that can help you, and help others.  So, what I’m saying is that you’ve got a hell of a gift, and we’re going to teach you how to use it.”

“Oh.”  Joey nods again, and looks up at his Dad.  “So how do we start?”

Steve just grins, and all Joey can think is:  _ this is gonna be awesome. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I do get prizes for slowest author in the world yet? It only took...ten months to get this chapter out this time. At least it’s not a cliffhanger? And hopefully I’ve given you enough clues to figure out where Dani comes from, even though the tags on the fic probably give it away by now.
> 
> This is not the end of the Incrediblesverse, not by far, though this is the end of this specific story. Come visit me on my blog so we can scream about fic together: [aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com](%E2%80%9Daenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D). I have lots of ideas and plans for where this world is going...
> 
> Thanks to my people for helping out with the writing in so many ways: Meri, Dizzy-Redhead, Rembrandtswife, Mcgregorswench. You guys are all the best, and never forget that.
> 
> Okay, onwards and upwards…
> 
> Thanks for reading, one and all, and stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> *pets the boys* They're trying, they really are...


End file.
